Ubiquitous Nightmares
by Nicci and Shelley
Summary: Some serious Raiden/Jack angst. Jack's dealing with the psychological results of Big Shell. Nicci solo. (Nope, I'll never be done playing around with the little details. e_x)
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimers: Don't own Metal Gear Solid 1 or 2. -.-  
  
Notes: First off this is a solo by Nicci. (Eep, this is my first serious MGS fic!) Am I the only one who finds it weird that when me and Shelley aren't writing a joint thing, we're writing about the same thing? o_o Okay, I'm hoping I got most of the facts down. o.o Considering I've never really played Metal Gear Solid 2, just watched Shelley. -.- She helped me with this, though, so thank you, Shelley! XD For those plot talks at 4:00 in the morning. ^_^ And a whole lotta credit to the Smashing Pumpkins. :P For it was their music that inspired me to write this and it was about all I listened to while writing it. oo  
  
  
Jack rolled over on his side, taking a glance at the digital clock beside his bed as he went. He sighed--the numbers confidently flaunted themselves in the blackness--2:30 a.m. His attention turned to Rosemary who was sleeping soundly next to him. A short flurry of jealousy rose up in him; she had been asleep for the past hour and a half, leaving him alone with his peculiar contemplations--which he had plenty of due to the incidents at Big Shell that had happened barely a week ago.  
Jack started to move to shake Rosemary's shoulder and stopped himself. Instead he rolled over on his back and flung the sheets away from his body in one movement. The action caused Rose to stir slightly and he tensed hopefully. She mumbled something barely audible and then turned over in her sleep. Jack sighed heavily, maybe even a little dramatically, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He set his head in his palms for a moment, eyeing the orange container. Without much thought the container moved from the stand beside the bed to his hand, and soon enough two round tablets were resting in his loose grasp.  
With the help of a glass of water, the constant companion of the pills, he threw the medicine down his throat and collapsed back onto the bed. It wasn't long before he had to will himself to hold his eyes open.  
With on final glance at the ceiling he settled back comfortably against his pillow and shut his eyes against the dark. A scream jerked him back to reality and he flew upright, his head looking erratically from side to side. He focused on what was in front of him: a tall, bulky figure that stood silhouetted by shadows that were cast across the room. Next to him stood the willowy figure of a female, no she was being held up by what looked like a tentacle. The female choked out a cough and let out another strangled cry. By now Jack was on his feet and saw with a horrific realization that it was Rosemary who was being held at least a foot off the ground, her bare feet desperately swinging, trying to make contact with the ground. Rose, he meant to shout, but the words choked in his throat. He felt sick when he realized that his voice wasn't the only thing that betrayed him. His legs refused to move forwards; all he could do was reach pitifully towards her as she continued to make strangulated and animal like sounds as she clawed the arm that held her. Jack again tried to force his way forwards, only succeeding in falling to his knees, all the while feeling Rosemary's pleading gaze on his back. When he looked up he was almost blinded by the change in lighting--every light in the room had turned on, giving him a clear look at her face, which had turned a deep shade of red, her eyes bulging slightly. She moved her lips again, but this time no sound escaped. It didn't matter, he could understand what she was asking him anyway.  
Why?  
Jack watched as her eyes began to glaze over; he could feel himself shaking as his gaze followed her body's fall when the mechanical arm unraveled itself from her neck and dropped her limply at his feet. "Solidus..." he said slowly, positive it was the man who claimed to be his father standing before him. He willed himself to look up. When he did finally raise his head he was staring into a set of almost colorless eyes. His eyes. Jack choked on his breath as he watched himself turn around and walk out of the room, melting in with the shadows from the hallway. "Rose--" his voice caught in his throat again as he crawled clumsily towards her. He couldn't bring himself to touch her body, all he could do was stare into her eyes, which seemed to be filled with a mixture of fear, sorrow, hatred, and rapture all at once. He shut his eyes tightly, when he opened them she would be gone and he would be back in his bed with Rosemary. When he was ready to take in his surroundings once again he peeked one eye open and relaxed. He was lying in his own bed and next to him was a sleeping form that had to be Rose's. Jack reached over to shake her shoulder but recoiled when his hand made contact. He rolled the body over and immediately threw himself from the bed. It wasn't Rose this time, or himself, but Snake, who's chest cavity had been torn open, causing the sheets to mutate from a pristine white a deep crimson. His stomach turned over as he placed his foot on the floor, only to trip and fall onto his back. The fall was broken by something lying on his floor and on instinct he looked down. The body of Snake's friend--the lanky researcher who had called himself Otacon--was sprawled across his floor. He looked over, only to discover that Snake and Otacon's bodies were only two of many that littered his room. He saw everyone from Emma, whom he had watched die in the arms of Otacon, to Fortune, the Negro woman had tried so hard to kill him, while wishing for her own downfall. He saw people he didn't even know, men and women--he couldn't help but notice the children--that were all dressed in civilians clothes. Countless Russian soldiers who all matched in their brown camouflage were thrown into the mix. "Jack?" He turned around to see Rosemary's body slowly standing up, using the wall as support. Once she was fully on her feet she began to step towards him, her limp arms swaying at her sides. "Jack..." He grimaced, her lips were cracked noticeably and had taken on a sickly gray hue. Again she murmured his name and again she took another step forward. "Jack."  
"Jack!" He shuddered and bolted upright, almost knocking heads with Rosemary as he did. "Jack?" Her voice gave away the fact that she was near tears as she brought her hands to his bare shoulders.  
"I... I had a nightmare, that's all," he looked around the room as well as he could--all the lights were off, as they should be. The floor, as far as he could see, was bare, and no strangers had entered the room. He turned to look at Rosemary whose bottom lip was quivering noticeably.  
"That's all!?" She sounded enraged, yet despite her tone she drew in closer to him. "You were shouting my name in your sleep, Jack! You sounded like you were dying. I was scared for you, Jack," she shouted at him, looking at him somewhat defiantly.  
"Rose, it's nothing," he rolled his shoulder away from her and tried to lay back down. She followed him down, propping herself up on both elbows.  
"No it's not, Jack. I would like it... if you would talk to me more. I want to help you, Jack."  
"Fine," he said sharply, pushing himself back up to a sitting position, "I had a dream that I was watching myself kill you. I stood and watched you helplessly as you tried to call out my name, and I didn't move to save you from myself. Is that what you wanted to hear so badly?"  
She didn't say anything, but instead pulled him into a hug, which he let himself fall into. "I wanted to save you..." he murmured into her shoulder, "I couldn't move... I wanted to--"  
"Sssh..." she said quietly as she drew away from him, "you don't have to say anything, Jack. Just... try and go back to sleep, okay?"  
Jack didn't say anything, he only slid back down under the think blanket, silently thanking the darkness for concealing his face, which were threatening to brim over with tears. He hated himself at the moment for showing such a weakness--all over a dream. He ignored Rosemary as she moved herself closer to him, still disgusted with himself; he couldn't even remember the last time he cried. "Jack?"  
"Hm?" he did his best to sound sleepy, hoping that would please her for the time being.  
"Stop thinking and go to sleep, Jack."  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Jack turned over, extending his arm, intending to drape it over Rosemary's waist. When his arm hit the mattress he opened his eyes and sat up, a yawn taking over his features. He stretched and pushed himself out of the bed, eyeing the carpet as his feet made contact. He was about to go into the bathroom when a sheet of white on the bedside table caught his eye. Upon realizing it was a note he picked it up and read the loopy writing aloud: "Jack- Hal Emmerich called this morning. He wanted my opinion on some information he found last night regarding the Patriots. I needed to stop at the store after--be back around noon. Love, Rose" At the bottom of page a phone number, which he assumed to be Hal's, was scrawled across the bottom. He looked over at the clock, 10:00.  
He yawned again as he walked languidly to the bathroom that was connected to the small bedroom. He looked at himself in the mirror hanging over the sink; his eyes were slightly bloodshot and his eyelids were more than a little puffy. Jack shook his head as he walked over to the stand-up shower that was nestled in a corner. He flipped up a lever to start the water, undressed, and stepped in once the water was at a comfortable temperature.  
After his shower he stepped out and walked back to the sink and picked up the razor that sat on the porcelain ledge. With one hand he cleared away some of the condensation on the mirror, the other picked up a can of shaving cream. He gave the bottle a short shake and then put his palm out to catch the foam. When nothing came out Jack gave it a harder shake and again he was only greeted with a short blast of air. "Damn," he muttered to himself, throwing the canister into the garbage can under the sink. Using warm water to take the place of the lather the best he could he began to the tedious task of shaving. In the middle of his right cheek his arm flinched, causing the blade to press and drag in his skin. He barely flinched as he watched blood well up and slowly start to trail down his near alabaster skin. If anything the sharp pain made him feel as if a large strain had been removed from his mind. With out a second thought of what he was doing he picked another place on his cheek and pressed it into his skin before dragging it down quickly. Again he was rewarded with a small, yet significant sense of relief. For a third time he placed the razor against his skin when the phone rang, jerking him out of what felt almost like a trance.   
The razor dropped from his hand and clattered into the sink; he began using both hands to get cups of water from the faucet to wipe away the blood that had started to dry on his face. The phone rang again; Jack opened the door in order to here the answering machine, which was about to take the call.   
The familiar "leave a message" recording played and Snake's voice came from the machine. "Jack, it's me. When you get the time call back. I wanted to know if you could come over and help me with something."   
Jack sighed, that was it. More than likely to ask if he knew anything else about the Patriots, or Metal Gear, or something that he just wanted to forget about all together. He ran his towel through his hair as he made his way to the dresser, ignoring the sting in his cheek. He threw on some clothes and walked over to the telephone; his fingers hit the numbers that would contact him to Snake. A woman's voice came through the other end. "Hello?"  
"Sn--er, Dave? Is he there?"  
There was a pause. "Hold on a second," Jack waited, wondering why he couldn't just use the Codec for calls like this.  
"What?" Snake's voice came through.  
"It's me, Jack."  
"You got the message, then. That was quick."  
"Yeah, I just missed it."  
"I need your help with something. Were you busy?"  
"Not yet."  
"Then could you come over? Hal wouldn't be much help for something like this."  
"Yeah, I can."  
"Okay, bye." Jack blinked as the line clicked suddenly. He put the phone back on the cradle and wrote a note to Rosemary under the one she'd left him and headed out the door, wiping away a fresh trail of blood that had started from one of the cuts.  
  
  
*-*-*-*-*   
  
  
More notes: I hope you liked it. -_- I warned you it was fairly dark. Hopefully the next chapter'll be up soon. There'll also be quite a bit more dialogue in the next! :D And Snake! Yeah! :  
Yes, I did some research so what Jack did was not out of sheer stupidity (although I wouldn't put it past him...) but it was a bit pushed. Just a bit. ;D  
Okay, and him finding Snake in his bed was not a yaoi reference. The way I had it was the people that meant the most to him were ones he found first or closest to him. Yeah, I think Jack really looks up to Snake (I mean, who wouldn't it? :P) but I don't plan on writing yaoi anytime soon. But since I'm on the subject, here's the pairings: Jack/Rosemary, Snake/Meryl. -o- Yes, I brought back Meryl. I like Meryl. :D Besides, according to the 2nd game she lived. :D   
Hope it was liked. Please review, helpful criticisms always welcome.  
And for obvious reasons they're using their real names, not their code names. -_- Aaaand I'm calling Rose Rosemary because... Jack and Rose... sounds... too much like Titanic. Way too much. 


	2. Hiatus

Just thought it'd be nice to let you guys know that this is on a temporary hiatus. Mainly because I was thinking about it... and I was getting too many ideas, but not enough, does that make any sense to you? oO So I need to sit and sort it all out and blah blah blah, boring crap no one cares about. :P Not that that's gonna stop me from writing... OTHER stories! Har har har. :D Just this one. ^^ Well, for what it's worth, you'll be the first to know when it comes out of hiatus. ...that and my muse bug stopped biting me for this one. o_o  
  
Your pal,  
Nicci 


End file.
